Lovers become quiet
When their bodies are raging,
The most perfect silence
When entwined and becoming one.
They search eachothers soul
Because each is lost without the other,
They fight and abandon
That they might reunite passionately.
Their spirits are free
And lurk the earth finding others
But not themselves,
Led by the estrangements of the heart.

They are like crazy peoples,
Lovers are,
Because they fight battles alone
Against the world
And submitting to the moments
Of lustrous passions
And in pain because life
Does not recognize such enigmas.
Lovers can only love,
Led by strings of violinists
Who take them where they have
Never been,
Going and going back again
Into the ****** of music
That plays quick beats and sad tunes.
Lovers are perpetually hopeful
Always wanting and taking the
Next step in a ladder to nowhere.

Lovers make mistakes
And do not learn from them,
Or sadly love the pain so much
They go back for more.

Alone in their own darkness,
Lovers find eachothers
Like tiny embers of burning
Souls filling the vastness of the void,
They cling to one another like
A child to a mother
And then rebel like a youthful
Suffocation.

Lovers are not stable,
They believe in God
And dance with the devil.

Lovers are alone,
Because they need seclusion
So that when they are free from
Themselves they can find something
Else to love,
They are in inexhaustible oil
To the lamp in a dark ravine,
They count drops of rain
And save their tears like memories.

They are empty and full,
Philosophical fools that love
Even those who reject them
And chase the uncapturable bird,
Flexible hearts of desirous fires.

Lover are the truth of humanity,
Crazy beautiful things
And they go loving
And hurting the beautiful life.

Who could have known
Or ever proposed
That Kansas farm girl
Would land back in Oz

Who could have guessed
All this no less
From that moment on
Would be such a mess

All because Dorthy
Went High Royalty
Ever since those ruby reds
She's had a need for the bling

Now she likes to buy
Everything in her sight
With Munchkins for servants
Who serve her outright

Then came the day
She ran out of dough
And the Lollipop Guild
Mentioned the road

Where few have been told
And even less know
That the Yellow Brick Road
Is really made out of gold

That's the happiest she's been
Since she arrived
As the shimmer and glimmer
Cha-Chinged in her eyes

She called her three friends
Clueing  them in
The Lion, the Scarecrow
And of course the Tin Man

As a matter of fact
Tin Man bring your ax
I have just the job
For you to get down with that

That's now where we are
I am sad to report
The Yellow Brick Road
Is now nothing but dirt

But sweet Dorthy dear
Has plenty of stuff
Though she still has her eyes
On the emeralds of Oz

Go ahead
Sit with your ignorant comfort blanket
Of expected
Respected
And protected
Male privilege,
And try to tell me we are weak.
Try to tell me that the women who climb mountains of misogyny,
Beaten down repeatedly,
And still stand to scream 'we shall not be silenced'
Have not earnt the right to speak.

You have no idea,
Just what it means to be a woman.

They wrote about you.
Named you Goddess and  
Lifted you high above the

Imagined boundaries of your
Spirit and ***.
No longer seeming as little as

You always felt. Well...
The rains came; you became
Umbrella.

Cinderella's indecisive cousin.
Wet now, and not in the
Good, hot way.

Workmen's sweat fresh from
Frustrated chests upon your ever
Forgiving back.

Heathens in the temple.
Berserkers in the
Cathedral.

Male pens, shovels and clamps
Made for grabbing and digging,
Holding up towards God's Skies

And proclaiming, not "Her,"
But: "Mine!"
I've seen it as it is.

Oh, I know. I've been a lifter.
Shoving goddesses into brick sized
Holes, praising the solid

Wall.
You deserve better. Take it from
Iron:

There is not enough
Gold in your
Life.

Throughout this soundtrack that I call my life,
       your heart is the beat,
          your voice is the lyrics,
   your soul is the slow and steady rhythm,
             your kisses are the chorus
       and your face is the album art.
Without you,
  I would never hear music the same again.

let go, brother
let go of your forest
your ocean spray
your frantic
manic
tendencies
the ability to wipe it all away
lost somewhere in the wind
let go of your rain
let go of your shaky hands
and hold your pencil straight
with your teeth
don’t fret, forest
don’t burn, brother
hold
hold tight
the hallucinations of what swims
a polished stone skipping
in one endless encephalon cycle
fogged and
fogged again
the forest smokes
and the rain to put it out wanes
steam